


we're dancing with strangers tonight

by jessequicksters



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 2 4 1 Deal, Angst, Angst and Porn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bittersweet, Bittersweet Ending, Clubbing, Cunnilingus, Dancing, Earth-3490, Emotional Baggage, Escort Service, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Getting Back Together, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Porn, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Multi, Multiverse, Mutual Pining, Online Dating, Pining, Post-Break Up, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Rimming, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 15:23:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17789882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessequicksters/pseuds/jessequicksters
Summary: Tony and Steve use a discreet escort services program to try to lose themselves with someone else for the night. Little do they know that their dates are Earth-3490's Steve Rogers and Natasha Stark. Spending their night in the dark rooms of a nightclub, they dance with strangers, longing for each other, oblivious to the fact that the other is right around the corner, crying out their name at the same time.





	we're dancing with strangers tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Note: changed the title, previously 'dancing with a stranger' as I am a fickle pickle
> 
> I just wanted to thank Fury and Raven for being amazing cheer/beta readers! You guys encouraged me to finish this, even as it spiraled out of my hands. It became something much bigger than my original idea, but hopefully, you enjoy it! + this fic is an entry for the Stony Prompt of the Month Collection: "There's a first time for everything."
> 
> I included a lot of "first times" for this fic, maybe there can be a game where people can guess all the different ones included :')
> 
> Songs that inspired me:  
> 1\. Dancing With a Stranger - Sam Smith (ft. Normani)  
> 2\. Nights Like This - Kehlani (ft. Ty Dolla $ign)  
> 3\. Garden (Say It Like Dat) - SZA

**_I. DANCING WITH A STRANGER_ **

 

 _I don't wanna be alone tonight_  
_It's pretty clear that I'm not over you_  
_I'm still thinking 'bout the things you do_

Every choice Tony made felt like a mistake these days. He promised too many people that he wouldn’t go down this road again, but the road downhill is often the easiest road to travel, and he’s mostly in it for the thrill of the ride, anyway.

The _S3 Program (Stark Secret Services)_ was one he’d long handed off to one of their subsidiary companies in Stark Industries. Once he developed the tech, he signed off the responsibilities off to a group of entrepreneurs who were far more invested in the idea of developing and marketing an AI-based escort app for clients who required maximum privacy. He forgot about it soon after the cash started rolling in and never looked back.

So even after a good ten years or so of this service is on the market, Tony had never actually used it himself. He sits in the living room of his penthouse, alone, suited up and ready to record a video-answer of himself to upload for the app for processing.

As he presses record, he picks up a glass of water and his Starkphone starts to ask him questions.

“Good evening, Mr. Stark. We are glad you’ve chosen the _S3 Program_ to guide you in selecting your services for tonight. Please tell us a little bit more about what you are looking for.”

Tony tries to suppress a smile, biting down on his lip as he shakes his head. This feels so absurd, using his own technology to try to fix problems in his real life—as if that has gotten him anywhere in the past. He clears his throat to try to give the best answers he can for what he wants tonight.

“Just looking for a good time. Nothing too heavy. Someplace… casual, maybe a little crowded, even. I don’t need to feel stifled by this next guy.”

He swallows, realizing that he’d already indicated a gender-preference to who he wants for tonight. Shit, the point of all this was to get as far away from Steve as he can.

“Or girl, or anyone, really. I don’t mind.”

“Very well, Mr. Stark. Based on your past partners and the profiles we’ve processed, we’ve come up with a list of desirable traits suited to a potential partner. Do you have any specific preferences you would like highlighted?”

“I want someone who likes to take orders, rather than give them, you know, I’m really tired of—nevermind. Someone tall, although you probably know that’s my type, anyway.”

He thinks about Pepper, beautiful dresses and heels that always looked like they could kill him, and swallows the image back down his throat. A taller, bigger, shadow is cast in his mind, now, of Steve, in bloodied armor with the helmet ripped from his head, hair a mess and all Tony wants to do is tangle his fingers into them and grip him tight.

He remembers the taste of blood in his mouth the last time they kissed, the last time they spoke to each other after Siberia. It was a chance encounter, last month, one that caught both of them by surprise. Tony was certain that it would end up in flames the minute they started talking again. It did.

He never expected to still be carrying that torch with him after nights of trying to put it out in the darkness.

So he says, fuck it, and tells the AI exactly what he wants and how he wants it.

 _Can you light the fire?_  
_I need somebody who can take control_  
_I know exactly what I need to do_  
_'Cause I don't wanna be alone tonight_

He hands the bouncer his fake ID, feeling like he’s fourteen all over again. Setting up an online dating account for the first time wasn’t exactly a moment of pride. It was trash, he knew, the desperate swipes, the games, but at least he’d found someone decent-looking and down for a good time.

Steve was never down for a good time. Well, that’s not true. He could be persuaded, on most things, but he only ever did it to please Tony. Steve could be so damn _needy_ , on the field and off. _Iron Man, status update, now! Give me a callback, Tony, I miss your voice. Was our performance up to your satisfaction, Stark? Does that feel good, Tony? Let me know if there are any improvements you’d suggest for the next mission, I’ll work on them right away. Just tell me what you want, sweetheart, and I’ll give it to you. Anything you want, I’ll do it for you._

That was a load of bullcrap. Tony shakes off the thought as the bouncer lets him in and he steps into the club, pounding loud music into his ear, thumping into his chest. He walks around the room, trying to find his stranger after they’d agreed to meet at the bar.

He hasn’t even reached the bar when he sees him. _Holy shit_ , Tony thinks, because he looks more like Steve than he did in his photo. He thinks about turning around for a second, but he knows he isn’t going anywhere, not when they’ve locked eyes and he’s giving Tony a look that’s telling him that he’s not letting him out of his sight for the night.

 _Good._ He hands Tony a glass of what smells like whiskey on the rocks, as Tony swirls his drink around, eyeing the man down while trying to remember if that information was publicly available on his profile on the _S3_.

The man, who’s in these ridiculous bedazzled black suspenders and leather jeans (okay, Steve-lookalike definitely does Not dress like Steve-Steve) has still got an arm resting on the bar as he leans over and waits for his own drink. Tony’s eyes trace the strong lines of his exposed back, shirtless, down to his gloriously tight leather trousers. Oh, this is exactly what he needed tonight. He thanks the stars for his brain and the software he developed himself.

“If I got your order wrong, I’d be happy to buy you something else,” Ian says, as Tony suddenly remembers his name as listed on the program. He also realizes he’s been standing there wordlessly with the drink still in his hand.

“Can I—” Tony starts, biting down on his tongue.

“What is it?”

“Nevermind, I don’t think you’re getting paid enough to deal with my emotional problems,” Tony laughs, taking a sip of his whiskey, holding the glass to his lips just long enough for the ice to numb them.

“Hey,” Ian says, suddenly very standing very close to Tony, hot chest pressed against his silk black button-up shirt, and jesus, the guy is huge—bigger than Steve, even. Tony thinks about how far down that size extends to.

“Tell me what you want,” Ian says like it’s an order. Tony doesn’t feel the urge to fight him.

“Can I call you—by a different name for tonight?” He nearly cringes as the words come out, knowing how it sounds. It’s not like Ian is his _real_ name, anyway. They were all strangers around here.

Ian only runs a hand up Tony’s shirt all the way to where his chest is like he knows there’s a cavity underneath, like he’s searching for it, almost. His eyes are soft, just like Steve’s. He’s taking in the sight Tony in one, long, mesmerized, gaze. Tony hasn’t felt like that in a while, like a piece of art being examined, judged for all his messy strokes and bold colors, far too loud for most people.

His instinct is to tone himself down, to grasp at his elbows as he clutches his drink tight, still, but he feels a gentle touch of someone nudging his chin back forwards. He’s still looking at Tony like he’s on auction, like he’s going to break the bank for him, going to take him home as his prized possession.

“You can call me anything you want. Tell me what you need, Tony.”

His chest tightens as the music starts to slow down, the lights dimming all the way down until it’s only Steve’s eyes reflecting against his, the jewels on his suspenders sparkling in the dark.

 _Look what you made me do, I'm with somebody new_  
_Ooh, baby, baby, I'm dancing with a stranger_

The logical part of Tony’s brain tells him that this guy isn’t Steve, because he isn’t. He’s a carefully selected escort chosen by his very high-tech program, designed to give him exactly what he wants.

And yes, he wants this, the feeling of grinding against Steve in a room full of people, no one batting an eye at the two of them. He never had the chance to do this with _his_ Steve, mostly because they never had the time to do anything for themselves. Sure, they made plans, lots of them, dreaming of nights like this, drowning in a haze of endorphins, dripping in looped beats and sloppy kisses.

They never planned to drown in a flurry of snow and ice, dripping in blood and bleeding out after some sloppy fight over—

 _You act like you need remindin'_  
_Tryna do it over, bring it back and rewind it_  
_But all that glitters isn't gold, I was blinded_  
_Should have never gave you my heart on consignment_

So he has this new Steve, who somehow knows that he likes to be held at the hips, knows just how hard to press into him when they dance together. His grip is strong, Tony gives him that, but he’s even more impressed by the fact that he’s already planting kisses on the back of Tony’s neck. He feels his mouth open and hungry, but not ravenous. His kisses are tender, hesitant even like he’s waiting for some kind of response.

It feels familiar to Tony. Something in his gut is telling him to say something, but he reminds himself that this new Steve isn’t his emotional laundry machine and that the point of tonight was just to surrender to his senses and let go.

He reaches for his suspenders behind him, tugging on them as they continue to sway with the rhythm—strobes of pink and white are blasting through the dark, and the bass is low and heavy, pounding out in the spaces between their bodies.

“Tony…” Steve exhales softly from behind him, strained. “Can I ask you something?”

Tony takes a breath, letting go of the suspenders as he takes both of Steve’s arms to wrap around his chest in a tight hug. Steve’s lips are in his hair, planting soft kisses on his head as he closes the gap between their bodies. There’s an unmistakable tent in his leather trousers now, and Tony wants him, _now_.

But then, the other part of his brain, the one that tells him to keep pulling on strings he shouldn’t just to find out what’s going to unravel, well—he ends up pulling on this particular string.

“Yeah? Ask away, big guy.”

“If I may ask, what’s a gorgeous man like you doing out here all alone tonight?”

Tony laughs unexpectedly. “People usually lay on the pick-up lines when they first meet, not halfway into the night.”

He turns around to see him blush. “I don’t—I’m sorry, it wasn’t meant to impress you. I mean, I would’ve liked to impress you, but the question itself was—”

“—genuine. I know, I can tell.” Tony finishes, as he nods. “You know we’ve got a room booked out right? Say we dance there and we’ll talk.”

Steve takes Tony’s hand as he leads him through the club, a maze of stairs and corners until they finally reach their private room. It’s buzzing with neon lights, with a bucket of champagne on ice on the table, a couple of glasses and a black leather sofa that stretches out wide. Tony pictures nothing but himself on his knees on that sofa, digging his fingers into the edge of the armrest as he gets fucked from behind.

Before Steve can say anything, Tony throws himself onto him and kisses him hard.

 _I wasn't even goin' out tonight_  
_But, boy, I need to get you off of my mind_  
_I know exactly what I have to do_

Steve pulls on his jacket tighter as he shuffles through the club, noisy and crowded. He dropped his phone during an altercation with a man who was being far too touchy with one of the girls standing in line and as the bouncers started approaching, he took off into the crowd.

He can still hardly believe he’s ended up here, in a nightclub, after Bucky and Sam had set him up with someone on some escort app—no, they chose to use _Tony’s_ escort app of all things. In their words, what would be a bigger burn than using your ex’s own program to get with someone else?

They’d chosen the maximum privacy settings on the program, where both parties would allow the AI to choose their partner instead of swiping through and their photos would only be revealed half an hour before their intended meeting time. Steve never saw the photo of the person on the other side of the line and is now going in blind.

He thinks about leaving, but he’d never hear the end of it from Bucky and Sam. Steve has never done… this. Been out, in the 21st Century. He’d always wanted to go, of course, with—

They never had time for any of that. They never had time for anything that mattered.

So Steve takes a breath, shrugs his black jacket off his shoulders and pops a few buttons of his clean white shirt open. He doesn’t exactly know how to do this, but god knows he needs it. It’s not like he has a hard time getting attention these days, anyway and who knows, maybe he’ll learn a few new tricks from someone new.

 

  ** _II. NIGHTS LIKE THIS_**

 

 _On some nights like this, I can't help but think of us_  
_I've been reminiscin', sippin', missin' ya_

He goes for the bar, because that’s where—anyone, would go, when they would look for someone to pick up for the night. He orders two double whiskeys, eyes scanning for anyone who might be up for anything, really. He sits there and drinks down both glasses, knowing that it isn’t going to do anything. There are lots of beautiful men and women around him, most of them with a partner, but even the ones without are getting snapped up quickly by someone who makes a move faster than he does.

Thing is, Steve’s fast. He knows he is. Hell, he even made the first move with Tony back in the day, that night they spent in Clint’s farm, when they shared the room in the attic. Things got pretty heated up in an argument during the day, but for the most part, things were fine between them. They were good.

_“You got something you wanna say to me, Steve?” Tony said as they tucked away their pile of fresh clothes in the drawer, courtesy of Clint. It was midnight and none of them were addressing the issue of the single bed. The room was painfully silent, and Tony was growing impatient._

_“Only if you’d listen, for once,” Steve said, a smile on his lips to soften the bite. Tony gave him an incredulous look, huffing out a breath as he tried not to roll his eyes all the way up to the ceiling._

_“I know what you want Tony,” Steve continued when Tony refused to acknowledge his joke. He wanted to make sure that this next part was completely serious. “And I know… why you haven’t asked. It’s the same reason I haven’t either._

_“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Steve.” He did._

_“Look, I know how this goes, with—teammates,” Steve chose his words carefully. “But you’re a friend, and for all our issues, I was hoping we could at least talk about it first.”_

_They didn’t talk about it first._

So Steve just sits there, frozen and still. He even feels cold, in this awfully hot nightclub. He wants to sweat like all those people on the dance floor, flushed red, drenched in their clothes, clinging on to them, onto somebody else, some of them sandwiched in between two, or three. God, Steve wants it all.

He doesn’t, not really. Not without Tony.

Before Steve’s thoughts start to spiral further into that red room, someone lands into the seat next to his, glass banged on the table with a loud clink.

“God, there you are,” a gorgeous woman says, dark wavy hair falling over her face. “I’ve been looking all over for you, handsome. Thought you’d stood me up. Come on, let’s go.”

 _Look what you made me do, I'm with somebody new_  
_Ooh, baby, baby, I'm dancing with a stranger_

She asks him to dance and Steve says yes, _yes_ , because Steve’s never said no to a dance with a beautiful woman and christ, can she _dance_. They head to a part of the club that’s less of a frenzy than the main room, where the DJ plays slow beats, the type of music that pulls people’s bodies even closer together, like magnetic currents drawing people to each other.

Steve wants to ask for her name, but she’s too busy tracing her fingers down his exposed chest, red heels flicking up as she dances all around him. She moves like a rockstar even when the music flows in waves, muted synths and bass lines, airy vocals turned up to a hundred in volume, so that it pierces through him, washes away every last built of guilt, sorrow and heartache constricting his body and his mind.

She seems to have none of that within her, and Steve needs to know why.

“Having a good time?” Steve asks, as she runs her hands all over him, sliding up over his shoulders and tracing the edges of his arms. He feels himself tense.

“If you have to ask, I must not be making myself clear enough.”

She takes off the silk scarf hanging from her neck and throws it around Steve’s neck, pulling him forwards as she leads him out of the room. It’s the kind of room that he would’ve wanted Tony to take him to, once upon a time, and how he’s here with some woman he’s barely said five words to. He hears himself laugh.

“Something funny?” she asks, not even sounding offended, just amused.

She’s sitting on the table pouring some champagne for the two of them. He leans forward on the edge of the sofa and drops his face in his hands, trying to shake off the nerves.

“Just thinking about someone I shouldn’t.”

She hands him a glass and smiles, raising an eyebrow. “He burned you bad, huh? Now, who would ever do such a thing to such a pretty face.”

Steve looks at her, surprised.

“So I’ve got a confession to make,” she says, ignoring him. “I stole you from your date tonight. I saw you sitting at the bar, alone, and I thought you could use some company. You seem new to this scene and I know the crowds can be overwhelming sometimes, so we can talk if you like.”

She takes a sip from her glass as she hops off the table to sit next to Steve, kicking off her heels onto the floor. She’s got brown eyes and lines of scars around her neck and shoulders, and when Steve touches her hands, there are scars there too. Scars that look like old bullet wounds. There are bruises, even, which look fresh.

“Military?” Steve asks, taking a wager.

“No, but that’s exactly my type,” she answers. “My name’s Natasha, by the way, if you wanted to call me that, when we…”

Steve brings a hand to the back of her neck and kisses her, and soon enough, her dress falls.

“Oh, give it to me, big guy,” she moans as she digs her fingers into his back, letting him climb on top of her on the sofa. Steve’s brain scrambles for a second because that’s exactly the way Tony sounded when he used to ask for it, loud and clear.

He tells himself that Tony’s not here tonight and that no matter how loud his heart screams or how hard it beats for him, Tony’s not going to hear it. It’s just going to keep pounding and pounding, like the music in this place, until it bursts, shattering his own body until there’s nothing left.

But when the woman underneath him touches his face and looks at him with a warmth he hasn’t felt since the days before Siberia, Steve can’t help but want to save those parts of himself that he thought would be worth nothing without him.

 _And I can't believe the lies that I went for_  
_Thought you was mine, but you decided to be with him though_

As Tony feels himself getting filled up by Ian, he so desperately tries to imagine that it’s Steve. He can’t, it’s not working anymore, because every memory of Steve is punctuated with an exclamation mark that tells him that he’s _wrong_ , that everything he’s doing is _wrong_ and that everything he stands for is _wrong_ and Tony was _wrong_ in the first place for ever loving him.

That night last month, when they crossed paths, Tony wanted nothing but to curl up in his arms and to hear him say that everything was going to be okay between them.

_“Are we finally going to talk?” Steve asked, hands tangled in Tony’s hair after he’d come inside him. Tony was weak and all fucked out, and he felt empty, but there was some kind of bliss there that made him want to stay._

_“Like we ever do,” Tony replied, closing his eyes._

_“Tony,” Steve’s tone shifted. “We’ve gone through so much. I’m tired of—”_

_“Maybe I’m tired of the sound of your voice,” Tony interjected. “It’s been—you’ve been talking so much, in my head, for the past two years. It’s all you do, and you never say anything that makes me want to keep hearing your voice, and I’m afraid if you open your mouth right now, I’m just going to be done, Steve. So please, don’t.”_

_Steve huffed and sucked him off quietly after that. They didn’t speak again before leaving._

“Tony—” Ian says, breathlessly, trying to get a grip on him, cock completely filling Tony’s ass. “Are you okay?”

“Mmhm,” Tony nods, trying to wave him off. “Keep going, please, ‘m fine.”

Ian slides a hand under his shirt in one long stroke up his back. Tony shivers at the gentle touch. He wants to cry. “Are you sure?”

 _You took my feelings and just threw 'em out the window_  
_Feel like it's too hard to fall in love again, no_

Natasha kisses Steve like it’s a sport. Some kind of game in which she’s clearly winning, and Steve’s only there to give her what she wants. She seems happy, though, grinding on his lap, hands all over his hair, and that’s all that Steve could ask for. Tony was never happy, not in those last days.

“Something wrong, gorgeous?” she asks, noticing that Steve has slowed down.

“Sorry,” Steve laughs softly. “Not used to talking about—my feelings.”

“Not a fan myself, I gotta admit.” Natasha purses her lips and looks down momentarily as if she’s asking herself something. Steve sees the moment when the answer comes to her as she whips her head back up. “But if you have something you wanna talk about, then by all means, I can take it. Use me as you like.”

“I’m—I’m in love with someone else,” Steve says.

“Yeah, I kinda figured.” She offers him a wry smile, and that’s enough to make Steve feel comfortable enough to continue.

“I broke his heart, I know I did. But it also feels like he’s broken mine, and he won’t say it. I know apologies aren’t always enough, and people need—they need time on these things, but I know that he doesn’t. I know his heart’s already there, but it’s just him, standing in the way. I know why he’s doing it, too. It’s so he doesn’t get hurt again; the best way to stop yourself from driving off the rails is to put a roadblock in front of you.”

“How do you know where his heart is?”

He smiles, feeling the warmth coming back in waves again. “Last month, we saw each other for the first time in… a long time, let’s just say. We didn’t speak, not much, anyway. He was still hurt, but when we went to sleep he held me like he never wanted me to leave. And you know that feeling when someone’s by your side, and they’re not scared of you anymore, even when they should be?”

She nods, and Steve knows she understands every word.

“At first I thought I was glad that Tony—” the name slips, but Steve doesn’t care anymore, “—wasn’t scared anymore, but then I realized that it was me. I wasn’t scared of what we could be, because I saw that we were… well, we could be okay, even after everything that happened between us.”

“Well, you seem like you’re still a long way from okay if you’re out by yourself in a place like this tonight.”

“Yeah,” Steve exhales. “Like I said, I don’t get to talk about this much. Thank you for listening, Natasha.”

“Don’t thank me yet, not until I take care of you for tonight.”

 

**_III. GARDEN (SAY IT LIKE THAT)_ **

 

 _Need you for the old me_  
_Need you for my sanity_  
_Need you to remind me where I come from_

“Steve,” Tony whimpers, trying this again. He needs this, needs to be with Steve, even if only for a night, even if it’s not really Steve.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Steve says, cock slamming deeper inside him. Tony can tell that he’s close—he can always tell. His eyes are welling up and his lungs feel constricted because _god,_ he even sounds like him and Tony can’t bring himself to act like everything’s okay anymore. He wants Steve. _His_ Steve.

Steve’s hands are all over Tony, spanking him, stroking him, digging into his skin and gripping onto him like he wants every part of him at once. He’s never felt this wanted in a long time and it’s nice. It’s so nice that he feels like he’s going to lose it if he can’t keep this after tonight. He's tired of fleeting moments and quick fixes. He wants something that's going to last and there's only one person that can give that to him.

“I don’t—I don’t know, Steve,” Tony says, as Steve’s cock moves again, another hard thrust that sends his own twitching. He’s hard and he’s hot and he wants to goddamn _come_ already, but he knows that’s not happening as long as he holds back. Still saving the rest of himself for someone who isn't here, Tony can't bring himself to let go.

“What don’t you know, Tony?”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Tony finally blurts out, and Steve immediately pulls out.

“Oh my god, are you—did you not want me to—”

“No, it’s not that,” Tony tries to wipe away some of his tears and stretches out his spine as he sits back on his legs. “I shouldn’t be here tonight, with you. I should be with someone else.”

Without missing a beat, Ian replies, “So why aren’t you?”

 _Can you remind me of my gravity?_  
_Ground me when I'm tumblin', spiralin', plummetin' down to Earth_  
_You keep me down to Earth_

Steve makes sure she comes first. He’s always loved pleasuring women and according to Sharon at least, Steve was good at it. He’s only glad to find that it seems she was telling the truth, judging by the way Natasha’s legs are clenched in a tight lock around his head, hands pulling at his hair.

She also does this thing, which makes Steve feel awfully strange inside; she strokes his ear after she comes and devours his lips when they kiss, sucking on his bottom lip. It sends him to places, but more than anything, it reminds him of Tony.

“Wish I could see you in your uniform, soldier,” she breathes, tongue still flicking out to lick his lips.

Steve stops, pulling her hair back as she flashes a dirty grin. “I never—I never told you that.”

“Like I said, I know the type. Can be difficult sometimes, but their heart’s always in the right place.”

“Who are you, really?” Steve asks. He knows how to read people, knows when they’re keeping secrets from him. He never thought that he’d care about the secrets of some woman he’d only just met.  

Something beeps in the room, something on her wrist. Steve doesn’t know how he hasn’t noticed it earlier. It’s like some kind of high-tech watch in the shape of a thin band, almost like a tattoo that matches her olive skin tone. It flashes with a red light.

“I need to go. Will you walk me out?”

Before Steve loses Natasha in the crowd, she kisses him on the cheek and pulls him close: “Sorry you’ve been hurt, darling. It’s one thing to take a bullet for someone, but it’s another thing to realize that lovers shouldn’t be playing on battlefields in the first place. Sometimes, people just want to be home with the person they love.”

 _For real, I'm not playing no games_  
_Pulling back and forth_  
_I need your support now (now, now, now, now, now)_

Tony leaves Ian in the room, because there isn’t much more of himself left to give away. He needs to get out of this place, needs to call Steve and break down the dam that’s keeping all their emotions in. No more barriers—Tony wants to flood himself with Steve, only Steve.

It’s always been Steve.

He bumps into a woman on the way out, wearing a black dress and a scarf wrapped around her neck—who the hell wears a scarf in a club—and she looks at Tony like someone’s just brought a mirror to her face.

“Uh, lady, if you could move—” Tony shuffles over to the side, as she steps in the same direction.

“You don’t happen to have seen my husband, haven’t you? He’s like…” she raises her hand up to as far as her arm can stretch, “yay tall, piercing blue eyes and with a body that could slam into you like a truck. Sweet mouth, though, if you know what I mean.”

Tony’s jaw drops. “Nope. Seen no one with that profile. Now, I really need to—”

“Be somewhere? I know running away is the easy option but, shit—am I running away, too?” she starts talking to herself then, in some garbled nonsense that even Tony’s brain has trouble keeping up with.

“You know, I always thought that my problem was everyone around me. People are always doing something wrong, am I right? And then I realize that this entire time, I should've been just facing it straight on—”

“Uh-uh.” She’s officially lost it, Tony thinks.

“Maybe Steve was going about this the wrong way, and then you had to run off in the middle of things when I thought I was making pretty decent progress. Maybe we should’ve been talking to ourselves this entire time instead. Maybe I would’ve listened to myself.”

“Look, darling!” Tony finally interrupts. “I just wanted to get out of this place to right some wrongs tonight, and I’m sorry about your husband but I’m sure you’ll find him at some point—maybe, uh, check out the private rooms upstairs. Men tend to hang out there, sometimes. Not that I would know.”

She shakes her head and mutters something under her breath about men being ‘always like this’, and pushes through Tony to go towards the stairs.

“You’re a piece of work,” she huffs, loud enough for him to hear. By the time the lights flash again on the next beat, she's gone.

_Love me even if it rain  
Love me even if it pain you_

Steve’s lost Natasha, who’s just disappeared into the crowd the moment they left their room. No phone, no woman, no company, nothing; the only choice for him now is to retreat back home, no matter how much he hates sleeping in that damn bed alone. Being with Natasha made him forget, if only for a moment, just how lonely he is.

He passes by a man in the room next to him who’s just come out, fumbling with his suspenders, looking slightly shaken.

“Everything okay?” Steve asks, as the man struggles to tighten them. He isn’t even wearing a shirt underneath, just some leather trousers and boots. Weird, Steve thinks.

“Rough night,” the man smiles wryly.

“Me too,” Steve nods. “I was with someone. Bolted the second I turned around.”

“I know the feeling. Been guilty of that myself, though. So, I can’t be one to complain these days.”

Steve sucks in his cheeks. “No, neither.”

As Steve leaves the club and waits for a cab outside, it suddenly feels like the skies cracked open as a storm breaks through, pouring down hard. But it’s not the rain that makes him freeze. Out on the corner of the street, Steve sees him standing there.

Like a frail bird, lost and drenched in the rain all alone, it's Tony.

 _All them times I played the fool for you_ _  
Thinkin' we could put it back together, thought we had forever_

_You never see my point of view  
Our connection is so severed, you don't show no effort_

He starts breathing short, jagged breaths as he runs up to Tony on the sidewalk, heart pounding as fast as he can think right now. He’s not going to let this moment pass. He’s going to make this right.

Steve approaches Tony slowly, careful not to come too close. He chokes on the rain and Tony’s neck turns back almost immediately.

“Walk you home?” Steve asks. “Cabs won’t take us soaking like this.”

He just stares at him, wordlessly, rain pouring down his hair and his sharp cheekbones. Steve can’t see Tony’s eyes in the dark, in the blur of the thick rain and city smog and the February fog that comes out of their mouths as they exhale breaths of hot air. He can’t see if they’re angry or hurt or in shock or—indifferent.

“Please?” Steve tries again, thinking about what Natasha said earlier. “I just want to go home, Tony. With you.”

And then, as a car drifts pass and with glaring white lights, Steve sees a tiny glint in Tony’s eyes and a tired smile.

“I want that too, Steve.”

They walk back, not even huddling underneath a jacket or an umbrella—the storm is unrelenting, and the only thing they know how to do is surrender. Steve holds Tony close, though, an arm wrapped around the small of his back, because he knows Tony likes being held like this when it’s cold, knows that even when they’re not talking, this is what he needs.

It takes a while for them to actually make conversation again, but when they do, it just feels right. Like a song that’s been lost in time, they both slip in and out of the melody imperfectly—sometimes forgetting certain beats, or lyrics, or their timing is off, or they’ve lost the key, but they try to keep up as best they can.

You never truly forget a song you love, and even if you can’t remember it all at once, there’s a yearning, no, a need to sing your heart out once it starts playing, mistakes be damned.

So they sing to each other, in broken conversations and jokes that don’t quite land in the right places but still stick, and Steve tells Tony:

“Your _S3_  could use a couple of updates to improve user experience, you know.”

“Don’t even get me started—I am never touching that thing with a ten-foot pole for the rest of my life. You know what, considering the events that transpired tonight, I am going to tell Pepper, first thing tomorrow morning to get rid of my name from the app. I don’t even care if we hand over the rights completely.”

“It was interesting, you know, using technology to meet people in that way. Not that it went exactly as planned but, hey, I gave it a shot. I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“Would you do it again?”

“Probably not.”

“Good,” Tony says, and Steve squeezes his hand tighter around his waist as Tony jumps shuffles in to fit inside the curve of his arm.

They stop by the bodega on the corner for a cup of hot tea and some snacks to settle some of their cravings for the night. Tony buys a large pack of candy, and Steve’s about to tell him that he isn’t interested in sharing until Tony starts pouring it all into his mouth.

“Hungry,” Tony says.

“Didn’t eat much before your date?”

“Nope. I’ve been—cooking, for myself, a lot more.”

“Nice. Anything you’d share with me?”

“If you ever find yourself so lucky.”

“Remember the bacon—and the aubergines?”

“That was one time!”

“Sharon got me into desserts, the last time we—anyway, you know what happened.”

“Yeah, she mentioned. Look at you, though, finally growing that sweet tooth.”

Steve laughs, as Tony dangles the pack of candy, nearly empty now, in front of their faces.

“What’s your signature? Come on, Cap. Lay it on me. Waffles? Gelato? I do a mean tiramisu, if you must know.”

“Are you really turning this into a competition, Tony?”

“I don’t know what we’d be if we weren’t trying to fight each other on something.”

Steve nearly says it, but keeps a lid on it before it spills. Tony notices, the words that stay stuck inside.

_Together. We’d be together._

They dive back into the rain like two birds seeking shelter, ready to nest somewhere safe. By the time they make it back to Tony’s place, Steve goes into the shower without saying a word. He doesn’t want to impose on Tony, and if this is going to make it easier for the both of them, then he’s going to do it.

It’s not until Tony walks into the bathroom that Steve realizes that he’s forgotten to lock the door.

_You think I'm a fool, ain't nobody stupid  
I see all the signs, I see all the clues_

Tony peels off his wet clothes in front of Steve, eyes locked on his. Steve doesn’t move, watching the tantalizing sight in front of him, the man coming undone, shedding layers of himself until it’s only him and his naked skin in front of them.

“Mind if I join you,” Tony says, voice low. It’s not a question.

Steve takes a breath and nods. As Tony comes into the shower, Steve grabs him by the hips. Tony leans in, hot water pouring over their heads, as their lips meet in a wet kiss. It takes him by surprise, then, when Tony flips him over and slams him into the glass, planting kisses down his back until he ends up on his knees on the floor.

Steve’s breath turns ragged as Tony spreads him open from behind, tongue flicking into him. He feels himself shiver as Tony grasps his ass even tighter, working his way back into Steve. He always manages to work his way back into Steve, no matter how strong he thinks he is, no matter how many times he tells himself that this is going to be the end of it, that it’s time to walk away and never look back—

His body is a dead giveaway, the way it surrenders to Tony’s mouth, Tony’s tongue, Tony’s fingers working their way inside him, pressing into him. He feels himself arch, and moan, and curse under his breath again and again, and Tony doesn’t stop, doesn’t want to, wants this as much as he does.

How did they play their games with each other for this long? How did they ever try to lie through their teeth when their mouths shut, knowing that the second they were in the same room again, they’d never be able to lie their way through the pleasure, the pain and the desperate longing.

 _Open your heart up_  
_Hoping they'll never find out that you're anyone else_  
_'Cause I love you just how you are_

Steve lets Tony fuck him into the bed after they come out of the shower. It’s fast and rough, and Steve’s knees are pressed so deep into the mattress it might even break.

“Steve…” Tony moans, voice cracking.

“Yes?”

“Have I ever—ever told you that you’re the most gorgeous man I’ve ever fucked?”

Steve laughs into the pillow, crying out in pleasure as Tony spanks him and savors the pathetic sounds of him begging for more.

Tony comes all over Steve’s chest, legs spread apart on either side of Steve's open body, kneeling over his shoulders, because Steve loves watching the way his cock twitches during his orgasm, the way it pulses red, slick wet from the lube, loves the way his hot come spurts all over his chest and up his neck.

“You’re the most difficult man I’ve ever loved,” Steve growls after, jumping back on top of Tony for a kiss, come staining Tony’s collarbones as their bodies slam back together, mouths still hungry for more.

 _Hope you never find out who I really am_  
_'Cause you'll never love me,_  
_You'll never love me, you'll never love me_

Tony knows he doesn’t deserve this, not with the way he’s treated Steve over the years. Knows he doesn’t deserve Steve murmuring sweet nothings into his ear as they lie awake in bed, kissing his neck, hugging him like he’s the only thing he needs to hold onto as they drift off into the night.

Tony knows he hasn’t said all the things he should, hasn’t made all the apologies that he’s been keeping in his head all these years in the fear that they would come out wrong, or that he’d start something again. He feels ashamed, all of a sudden, by the way his night with Ian had gone—the desperation, the loneliness, trying to turn someone else into Steve and most of all, for a moment, actually believing it.

What would Steve think of him, if he knew that was what he thought of Steve, an idea of a man that could be recreated or even plastered onto the face and body of someone else?

“Steve…” Tony says softly, shuffling backwards so that Steve’s spooning him even tighter.

“Yes, Tony?”

“I think we’re due for a night out—the two of us, don’t you think?” He needs a redo of tonight, to erase all the earlier memories of this one, to replace the man with Steve—real Steve, who either forgives far too easily or must be desperate enough to cling onto Tony no matter what.

Love was never in the equation, perhaps. Love is only an excuse for two people to justify being with each other when they shouldn’t. Love is only something people say to each other so that they can sleep better at night.

“I think that would be nice,” Steve says, after a brief pause. “Anything in mind?”

“I’d like to dance with you,” Tony says, “if that’s okay. We’ve talked about it, I don’t know if you remember, but we never actually—I’ve never danced with you before.”

“I’d love that, Tony,” Steve replies, and then quieter, “I love you.”

 _But I believe you when you say it like that_  
_Only you need me when you say it like that_  
_You must really love me_

 

**_IV. EPILOGUE_ **

****

“You’d think Strange would bring us back by now,” Natasha groans, standing outside the club in the rain.

“We can get comfortable soon enough,” Steve says, planting a kiss onto her forehead.

“You must be freezing—although, I told you that going shirtless into a club would bring upon dire consequences.”

“Tony liked it,” Steve shrugs.

“Well, of _course Tony liked it_. I liked it,” Natasha laughs, “until it’s left you standing in the rain in the cold, though I guess it doesn’t make much of a difference now.” She gestures at herself, soaking wet.

“How was Steve, by the way? You never said—”

“Wanna know if I fucked him?”

Natasha loves egging on Steve, just to see him blush sometimes. It can be spotted from miles away, in heavy rain, in a dark and foggy night in February, in an alternate universe.

“I didn’t. Well, we did some things but we mostly talked. I know you definitely fucked _him_. I can tell, Steve. You always have that same look on your face after we have sex.”

Steve pulls her in for a hug as she wraps her arms around his waist, head resting on his chest. She listens to the beating of his heart, wondering whether Tony is out there, listening to the same sounds of his Steve’s heart.

“Hopefully they manage to work things out,” Steve’s voice drops.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I do, too.”

“Strange warned us that if they don’t—”

“I don’t want to think about it. I know they’re not—us, but… I don’t want to imagine a world in which we lose each other.” Natasha grips on to Steve tighter, knowing what it feels like to be at a breaking point between them; the civil war which nearly tore them apart feels like eons ago now, and it feels like nothing compared to the threats this universe is going to be subjected to if they can’t get a handle on themselves.

“I don’t either, we’re just going to need to trust them. For a mission to save ourselves in a different universe—I think we got more than we bargained for. Well done on hacking the _S3_ and scoring us dates with ourselves,” Steve hums into her hair as she laughs.

“Well, baby, I did make the damn thing. As for our dates tonight, there’s a first time for everything right?”

Steve smiles and at the very same moment, a portal opens in front of them.


End file.
